Caprice Bar

Sai Ying Pun carries the label of a unicorn Blanc de Blancs Champagne: legendary, bone dry and austere, supposedly the height of Chardonnay purity. The first pour breaks the spell. Mango-infused gin and a sunny cream shochu mount a tropical ambush over an earthy, velvety base, carbonated to imitate the fine bead of a prestige cuvée. The fruit is loud, the texture silky and a sharp twist of lemon zest stands in for the acidity of a great vintage, though the kick runs far deeper.

Sheung Wan is dressed as a grand white Burgundy from the Côte de Beaune, the Chardonnay illusion at its most indulgent. Roasted-butter fat-washed vodka rebuilds the creamy, oak-aged weight of the wine; verjus supplies a wine-like snap of acidity; and a saline solution lends the minerality of the soil. It pours round and buttery, then turns supple over ice, where the butter softens and it drinks far more easily than its weight suggests.

Tin Hau is an aromatic trap styled as a Northern Rhône Viognier, all white flowers and oily stone fruit. Peach-infused pisco forms its stone-fruit core, an elderflower liqueur from Alsace carries the florality and a vegetal note of celery clears the finish. Light on its feet and unabashedly perfumed, it is the gentlest pour on the list and among the most refreshing.

Lamma Island points to an ethereal, near-translucent Pinot Noir scented with wild strawberry and damp earth. The cocktail rebuilds that finesse from the ground up: gin and fresh raspberry lift the red fruit high, beetroot supplies the forest-floor earthiness of an aged Burgundy and a measure of cherry heering leaves behind the tannic grip a fine Pinot lingers with on the tongue. A single fresh raspberry finishes it.

Mid-Levels promises the sun-baked grip of a Rhône Valley red, then trades the vineyard for the scrubland around it. Tequila and mezcal are infused with griotte cherry, thyme and black olive, then lengthened into a highball with an olive-based tonic, an ingredient almost no other bar in Hong Kong currently pours. It drinks mineral and fruity up front before settling on the briny, sun-warmed olive note that runs through the wines of the valley.

Caprice Bar, named for the room it is served in, wears the label of a First Growth Bordeaux, a wine of graphite weight and depth. A Negroni sits underneath: cocoa-butter-washed cognac channels the plush body of a top-flight vintage, Mancino Chinato brings a wine-like herbal bitterness and crème de cassis calls up the blackcurrant character of the Left Bank. It finishes deep and rounded, dusted with house-made fig powder.

Happy Valley is a nod to the "gold of the Jura," the rare, oxidative Vin Jaune aged for years beneath a veil of yeast. The wine reworks an Old Fashioned here, with bourbon for sweetness and weight while the Vin Jaune acts as a natural bitter and a breath of absinthe sharpens the edge. The finish is saline and tastes of toasted walnut, holding long after the sip. It is the most characterful pour on the menu, made for the curious.

Lantau Island promises a deep, brooding fortified Port. The cork comes out, and the illusion lifts. What follows is bright and full of bubbles, built on the red-fruit backbone of plum-infused Campari and carried by house-made carbonated guava water. Crisp and tropical, it is the lowest in alcohol of the nine – and proof that an illusion can be as light as it is convincing.

Victoria Peak arrives as liquid gold, a Sauternes in a commanding three-litre bottle. Sauternes is the most celebrated sweet wine in the world, and a label Caprice has long championed. The opulence is a trick of the light: inside the bottle is a Negroni, its sweetness drawn from the Sauternes and set against the cocktail's signature bitterness, closing on a candied-orange note that mirrors the noble-rot character of a great dessert wine. Crowned with saffron and served with a bespoke apricot-and-saffron chocolate by Hong Kong maker Conspiracy Chocolate, it is the evening's last word.